La Bella Luna
by kateofallpeople
Summary: After four years of fame playing for Puddlemere, Oliver is bored. Attempting to get back into the game, he returns to the place that made him fall in love with the sport. But will he be falling for Quidditch, or the blue eyed beauty in his class? ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Poll winner! I was half expecting the sequel to AVMC to win, but this is something I wanted to start anyway! After I started The Eighth Year, people started telling me how much they liked Oliver and Luna together, so I put this all together. Weee! Okay, here's the prologue. **

* * *

_Wood! Wood! Wood! _

He heard the cheers. He knew they were waiting for him to take the final step onto the pitch, into the bright lights of the stadium. He shaded his eyes with his hand. This was it. The Quidditch World Cup.

_Wood! Wood! Wood! _

They were calling him. It was time. It was past time, really. The game was scheduled to start about ten minutes ago. He was supposed to be the first to walk onto the pitch. When he'd finally gathered the team together, standing at the end of the dark tunnel, he was practically dragging his feet.

_Wood! Wood! Wood! _

He couldn't wait much longer. With a sigh preceding a deep breath, he pulled his left foot onto the grass, then his right. There. He was on the pitch now. And now, he just had a match to play. A very big match.

* * *

Nearly four hours later, his feet hit ground. It had been rough - the opposing team's Keeper was nearly as good as Oliver was. But not quite good enough. The final score was 350 to 190, and Oliver Wood had never been happier to end a game. He slapped hands with the other team, then his own teammates, throwing around a few hugs and cheers. It had been a long game, and Oliver was dying to return home, to sleep and make plans for the next few months: plans that didn't include Quaffles, Bludgers, or that bloody Snitch, and especially no broomsticks. He gathered his things from his locker, throwing them in his game bag and tossing his broom over his shoulder. He didn't wait to exit the locker room, to find himself swarmed with fans and admirers. He didn't want that anymore. He just wanted some peace and quiet.

As soon as he apparated, landing safely in his house in Devonshire, he let out a breath. Another season, over. He realized with a start that it had only been four seasons total since he'd been recruited by Puddlemere, straight out of Hogwarts. He was a young man of twenty-one now - one who might have, in the past, had every answer to his future. Of course, he'd be playing Quidditch for the rest of his life. Of course he'd feel the thrill with each and every goal he blocked, each and every successful practice and each and every victory over the opposing team. Or would he? It had only been four seasons. Four years. He shook his head as he tossed his bag down in the entryway, not bothering to flick on the lights in the well decorated alcove. The window directly over the door let in enough light for him to see the short way down the hallway, to the farthest doorway - his bedroom. He collapsed on the mattress, groaning.

He was much too young to be going through a midlife crisis. He couldn't, wouldn't, admit out loud that maybe his ideas of being an international Quidditch superstar were slightly warped. It was nothing how he'd imagined it, nothing compared to the way he felt at Hogwarts, when he first fell in love with the game. Wearing his red and gold Quidditch robes in those years, it had been all he could muster to keep from cheering throughout entire games, from being so excited he might fall off his broomstick.

An owl hooted outside his window, and he let it in, allowing it to peck at his hand affectionately before releasing the letter to him and pushing back off the windowsill to rest in his tree. Something was immediately different about this letter than those he usually received - there was no perfumed envelope, no swirly writing or sense of urgency at the writing of his address. This was simple - emerald green ink, in an elegant hand, with a very specific location scrawled under his name. _Mr. Oliver Wood. Farthest Bedroom Down the Hall. 16 Willowbough. Devonshire, England. _No postal code. Of course there wouldn't be one - it wasn't muggle post, obviously. He turned the envelope over without glancing at the return address. But that proved to be unimportant - the red wax seal plastered over the edge of the flap, an ornate captial 'H' in a round stamp - made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart skip a few beats. He knew exactly where this letter had come from. His only real question was, _Why?_

_

* * *

_

_Mr. Oliver Wood, _

_It has come to my attention that your season with Puddlemere United has come to an end. I have been keeping your most recent letter tucked away in my desk until I found use of its contents, and I feel that finally, I have. I am formally requesting that you return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - as a member of the staff. Madam Hooch has recently retired, and the school is in need of a new flying teacher and Quidditch referee, along with a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I felt that, with your background and passion, you would be best for the jobs. I understood that you would be willing to take a year off from the team to do such a thing, and that is what would be required of you if you accepted this position. It would be absolutely imperative that you not participate next season, and I would personally write a letter to the owner of the team stating exactly that, and that the school is in great need of your help. Please respond as soon as possible, I'll need to make arrangements and write that letter if you'll be accepting. (Which I don't doubt.)_

_Best Regards, _

_Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_

* * *

_

When he finished his reply, Oliver called the owl back to deliver his reply to McGonagall that very same night. Smiling, he shut the window again and settled into bed, ideas of the future spinning in his head. He'd been writing to McGonagall for years, keeping up with the goings on around Hogwarts and also keeping a friendship with his old Head of House. In the letter she'd mentioned, he'd revealed that he was not happy with his current profession - he had fallen out of love with Quidditch. He confessed to her that he constantly wished he could return to Hogwarts, to return to the school he loved so much. She hadn't replied in nearly three weeks, until tonight. He flicked his wand at the light, turning it off and setting his wand back down on the side table. He smiled in his sleep.

* * *

_McGonagall,_

_You're a lifesaver. Of course I accept - I've been hoping for something like this to come along since my second season out. The offer is fantastic - more than anything I could have hoped for. Send me more details as soon as you figure them out - and don't forget to send that wonderful, freeing letter to Martin, the bloke who owns the team. Look forward to seeing you and all of the staff I miss so much. Cheers. _

_Oliver Wood_

_

* * *

_**AN: Prologue - CHECK. I'm really excited to get this fic going. Since I've been writing The Eighth Year, Luna/Oliver has been shoving ideas into my head, and I've been going mad. Even with my current personal life mishaps, I'm finding time to start this story and possibly one or two more, while also continuing The Eighth Year and writing a part two to Take Two. I hope you enjoyed, please review! It's a little ship, I swear, but I love it! **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I know. I'm usually such a frequent, dedicated updater. But like I said, it's a maaajor failure lately. Moving and whatnot, and now there's more drama with that. Blah. Okay, here's the first real chapter. I've been waiting to come back to this! **

* * *

Months seemed like years, but at last it was time. Summer was coming to an end, the crisp afternoons of autumn greeting Oliver at last. He'd been waiting for this the entire time, packing and practicing and everything down of counting down the hours until he boarded the Hogwarts Express once again. He'd been doing a lot of thinking, as well. It was at Hogwarts that he'd fallen in love with Quidditch. The wind through his hair, the charge in his heart when he blocked a well-aimed shot at the three hoops behind him. It had been a rush, a shot of adrenaline in between monotonous classes and school age drama. It had been something to look forward to every year, even when the school was in great danger.

Today was that day. It was the first of September, and the cool breezes that ran through his hair brought him right back to the first pitch he'd ever played on - the one he was returning to now. Students would be starting new classes - he'd even be teaching a class. That fact didn't scare him as much as make him laugh - _Professor _Wood. It sounded so... old. So weird. But he had no chances or time to rethink anything. He was at King's Cross station. There were students swarming around him, saying their hellos and goodbyes to friends and family, loading their trunks on the train and boarding into their compartments. A small boy accidentally bumped into him, and red-faced, scurried away into the crowds again. It reminded Oliver of himself as a first year - nervous, excited, but scared too. The horn blew on the train - it was time.

* * *

The first day of classes was hectic. Students rushed into and out of his classroom, the castle was abuzz with stories from the end of the war the year previous, and of the two remaining close friends of Harry Potter that were left still. He remembered Ginny Weasley well - who couldn't remember a Weasley? - but he'd never heard a great amount about the other; a Luna Lovegood in Ravenclaw. Mostly the things he overheard about her were odd - that _she_ was odd, that she was a good duelist and a fierce fighter in the war, but that she was more than a bit strange. The whispers puzzled him, until the moment she stepped into his class.

He recognized her. She'd been so young when he'd last seen her, and she'd grown into a beautiful young woman. Somewhat tall, but still considerably shorter than himself. Her pale blonde hair only made her deep blue eyes stand out even more than they might on anyone else, and they were floating around the room with such an easy manner that he wondered if she were paying attention at all. When her class ended, Oliver had settled on the fact that she was paying attention after all - she'd even proved him wrong on a thing or two, right on the first day. And surprisingly, he didn't mind it... she was just quirky. That's all.

* * *

The next week continued as any first week might - first years still getting lost around the castle, seventh years taking their sweet time to arrive at their classes. He noticed Ginny again, and had tea with her one afternoon after classes. She was bright and funny, with the charm of her older brothers, but significantly more wit.

"So, Ginny. How are your brothers?"

"Well... they're all doing well, I suppose. The whole family is still dealing with... well, I assume you know what happened to Fred."

"I cried when I found out. Still devastating. He was such an amusing, good friend."

"Says everyone. He really was great. But besides that, everyone is well. Ron is starting Auror training with Harry. Percy is still at the ministry, but now that it's all been changed, it's back to good... Generally, everyone's fine. George is running the shop solo, I know it's really hard on him."

"I can't even imagine. The war was... I wish I could have fought with you."

"Thanks for the thought, anyway. They tried to keep me locked up in the room of requirement... nearly got my head blown off by Bellatrix, but then mum... well, I assume you know how she gets."

"Molly is a fiesty woman, she is."

"Precisely. I vaguely remember something she said when she found Bellatrix shooting Killing Curses at me, like 'Not my Daughter, you Bitch!'. Gave everyone around quite a laugh, even in the midst of things."

"I can only imagine. Who else was there, out of the old group?"

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione showed up that night. Neville was amazing - he defeated so many Death Eaters it makes my head spin, _and_ he cut off the snake's head. I was there, and Luna too."

"Tell me more about Luna. She was the only one I never really met when I was here."

"She's... an interesting character. Absolutely brilliant, and a bit odd, but a fantastic friend. She's basically my best friend now - it's weird on the both of us, to have everyone else gone. I'm staying away from guys, so she's really all I have. And I'm glad to have her."

"That's excellent. Really excellent. I've seen her in class once or twice, she's outsmarted on more than a couple occasions, but she just looks really... different."

"I suppose. When we were younger, she always looked even younger than she was. The perpetual first year. But in the last year or so she kind of... grew up."

He'd noticed, but thought it not a good idea to mention it. Noticing that a child had grown into a young woman was not something to mention without causing a seriously awkward moment.

"Ah. Well, I'll be sure to further introduce myself in class some time, or if she ever comes by..."

"Ah, you'll forget. Nonsense. We'll have tea again in a few nights, and I'll bring her with me."

"Sounds great. I really should be getting to bed now... long day of classes tomorrow."

"Another day, then."

He'd said goodbye to her that night with a smile - glad to see that she'd grown up so well from the small girl he'd remembered and curious about Luna. But Oliver was not actually going to bed. He was going to the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

Once he'd gotten there though, it was almost a disappointment. He'd been expecting some great feeling - something to tell him he was in the right place. That he could play on this pitch, teach on this pitch, and possibly see what it was that made him love the sport to begin with. It had been his passion, his calling, and now it felt more like a chore. It had been, of course, some secret voice in the back of his head that had pushed him back to Hogwarts for that reason - and McGonagall had seen that. He let out a breath, glad again that she'd accepted his begging cries to return to his old school. His breath condensed, the fog rising from his mouth in foggy swirls, like the steam from a certain scarlet steam engine. The comparison made him smile - it was on that train that he'd return here, and he was confident in feeling that he was in exactly the right place, immediate feeling or not. Besides, the lack of warm feeling could have been just because it was so bloody cold outside at night...

* * *

**AN: There's your update, I hope you enjoyed! I'll be back soon, I hope. I plan on coming home once a week to update everything here... I'm excited to get back!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Back. Can't think of much to say, I'll be updating more in the future. Enjoy! **

The lack of warm feeling was now not only at night: though autumn was just beginning, Oliver could feel the chill permeate him even under several blankets.

Teaching was interesting to him - he'd always been interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and teaching students of all ages the various spells and information that he himself had learned, in that very classroom, was more than weird. It was on a Thursday that the sun finally came through for a few hours, and he decided that tonight would be ideal for another walk to the Quidditch pitch. He only had to wait until tea with Ginny Weasley was over before he could set out. Speaking of Ginny, her friend Luna was in the class he had just let out...

_"Professor? I don't mean to interrupt... I was just browsing the book a few pages ahead, and I came upon a rather odd statement. It says in the section titled 'Dueling in Unfamiliar Places' that one should often try to find themselves in the biggest open area... and what if there is no open area?" _

_"Luna... well. I suppose you just make do. You fought in the Department of Mysteries, if I remember correctly... what did you do then?"_

_"We, well, we stuck together and attacked outwards... and we kept moving."_

_"Then there lies the answer to your question, am I correct?"_

_"I suppose." _

_After class, she'd waited behind to discuss it further._

_"Professor... sorry again for today."_

_"No apoloies, Lovegood. Curious questions are better when someone actually asks them."_

_"I figured as much. And well, you're the professor... you must be at least decently familiar with the subject matter."_

_"I admit I'm not as experienced as you, but it was my favorite subject when I was young..."_

_"I see. Well, I'll be going now. I really have to go meet my friend Ginny... but of course you know her. And I think she said something about coming with her for tea tonight..."_

_"With me. That's tea with me."_

_"Oh really? Hmm. She may have mentioned it... it must have slipped my mind. I'll see you later then, professor..." _

When she left, she left Oliver with an odd feeling, like everything was much calmer in those few moments that she'd been alone with him in a dim classroom. It was unsettling, after the fact.

* * *

Tea was awkward, to say the least. Oliver had spent most of the time being filled in on the happenings since he'd graduated from Hogwarts, and it was all information he'd heard in the news. Ginny talked more than anyone he'd ever met in his life, and spoke more about Luna than Luna spoke about everything combined. The blonde, however, spent most of the hour staring around the upper perimeter of the room - though he was almost certain she wasn't looking at the spiders. It was probably one of those... things, she believed in. Strange creatures. Strange even for the wizarding world. While Ginny loaded her tea with sugar and milk, Luna took hers with only a few drops of lemon, which was precisely how Oliver liked his own.

He enjoyed this - watching how people took their tea. It was a quiet, odd way of observing what kind of person someone was. Ginny liked everything in excess - adventure, boys, drama, and talking. Luna and himself, however, were minimalistic in that sense. Whatever they had was more than enough. Constantly felt blessed to be where they were. Quieter at times. Not very communicative. It was a good way to be, he believed.

The girls left with promises of seeing him for a morning lesson tomorrow, and when he heard their chatter turn into a whisper, and then disappear, Oliver immediately pulled his broomstick from a corner of the room. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he walked as quickly as possible towards the Great Hall. Just a short way away, he heard footsteps around a corner. He grinned. He'd only caught one student out of bed at night - it had been a second year who fell asleep in the library - and he was hoping this might be his second.

He was disappointed, however, to find Filch shuffling through the corridors.

"Student out of bed, eh?"

"Filch you old bat, it's me. I'm a professor. Wood."

"Ah, it _is_ just you. Not worth my time, then..."

Oliver shook his head and then continued on, starting to run when he saw the glow of the field lights in the distance. There was that feeling he was looking for.

His lips curled up into a smile. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears - though he quickly erased from his mind that this particular thing might be because he was out of shape. He squinted against the lights now, weaving through the changing room to the field, the great oval he remembered so well. He stood for a moment, under the bright lights, and looked around. The grass was patchy in places, or yellow. More than one of the upper field lights were out. He specifically remembered a broken bench on one of the upper towers from his seventh year. And yet this was the most beautiful pitch he could remember. Better even than the pitch at the World Cup, and that was a lot to say.

He mounted his broom and kicked off in one fluid motion, hovering only eight or so meters above ground and flying in long, smooth loops. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he could almost hear the students cheering for him as they once had... he turned his broom slightly left, making sure he was headed the right way... but quickly found that he hadn't done so. His face ran smack into an upper beam, and he could feel the trickle of blood from his nose before he ever hit the ground.

He was immediately aware of the fact that he was not alone by the voice. He could not make it out - everything was a bit fuzzy - but he could hear it, soft and feminine. It came closer, and then he could make out light hair, and a wand. It whispered a word, and suddenly his vision was clear again, his nose felt not perfect, but whole again. He sat up, putting his head in his hands.

"Oi, that hurt..."

"It's better that I fixed it then, or you'd still be half unconscious."

Hadn't he just heard that voice? He looked up. The giant blue eyes almost startled him. Right. Luna.

"Probably. But Lovegood, it's past midnight... what are you doing out of bed?"

"I come out here to think, sometimes. It's rather nice."

Nice was not immediately the word Wood may have associated with the pitch for a thinking place, but he ignored this. "How did you get outside?"

She smiled, and it was brighter than the lights behind her. "Professor, you don't think I don't know a few secrets about the castle? You heard Ginny's stories..."

"I did. But you've got to get back to bed... ten points from Ravenclaw, I'm afraid. Let's get you back to the dormitories, immediately.

On the silent walk back, he laughed to himself. He'd caught a student out of bed - it just happened to be the most unexpected one.

* * *

AN: Short chapter, yes. But a little more progression into the story. It really gets started in the next chapter, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised with a few goings on. Review! Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Back again. Story is actually going to start with something now, gasp! I've been at home the last two days, cleaning and updating and whatnot, so here goes! **

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* * *

**Oliver couldn't immediately understand why the encounter of the night before was so strange to him. Yes, he'd caught a student out of bed, far beyond the castle doors, and yes it had been the girl he'd just seen for tea. But it was his nose that may have confused him. Not only was it perfectly fixed, whereas before it was definitely broken, but he was also completely cured of congestion. He let himself believe that he was so pleased because of her impeccable charmwork, and began preparing for his first class of the day. Which, as usual, was a mess. First years never did quite grasp any sort of magic in the first month or so - it took most of them the entire month to be able to get a few sparks, let alone attempt to disarm anything. McGonagall had warned him about this, but Oliver would not let himself follow anyone else's rules - she'd asked him to come back as a professor, and it was his job to educate these young people... even if so far, he'd only managed to make a young girl fall out of her chair. Brilliant.

His next two classes were nearly as bad - what with the war and the goings on of the previous years at Hogwarts, he seriously doubted that most of them had gotten a decent education. It was just past lunch, and he was already exhausted. He kept having to remind himself that there was only one more class left, just the Seventh years, and then he could rest. The Seventh years... they were different. They'd at least learned defensive magic. They'd learned how to duel and protect themselves, and he was going to test that as thoroughly as if they were about to fight a second war. Twenty or so students filed into his classroom, chattering audibly and excited about something he couldn't quite understand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, take your seats please, I'd like to get some learning in today... right. What's all this then? What are you all chatting about?"

"Professor, sir." A tall, lanky brunette girl spoke from the back of the class. "McGonagall's just said that she's thinking about putting on a dueling competition by Christmas break. Any student can enter in their grade level, and we're all just wondering who's actually going to compete. We've never _really_ been allowed to duel at Hogwarts before. Besides last year..."

She trailed off, and students shuddered. She was speaking, of course, of the war and their disastrous sixth year.

"Well then. This is news. Let's have a look then, how many of you are planning to enter?"

At least twelve hands shot up.

"Ah, now, that's a number of you. It's time to train, I suppose. Like Quidditch - but probably better. Open your textbooks to page one fifteen... we're skipping ahead a little to duel tactics and special moves."

Those who hadn't raised their hands groaned loudly, and those who had cheered. Oliver now knew what he could do to take up his bored free time - he could work with them to train for the duels.

Ginny came to his office after class. "Professor?"

"Weasley girl. What's the problem?"

"No problem, really. I was just thinking about entering. And I thought maybe you could help me out a little."

"Of course. I was just thinking during class, I could have students sign up by house... it is by house, right?"

"Yes. The winning house gets twenty house points for every grade level they win, and the overall winners get another fifty."

"That's a number, then. We'll do it by house, and by level. Meeting once a week should be fine, it just means I'll have four practices a day every day... but it'll give me something to do. I get bored, you know."

"Everyone does. Fred and George..."

"Were probably the least bored students in school. Trouble makers, your brothers."

"Fred always said he and George would go down in history for their pranks... and I suppose they did."

"They'll be in history for a lot of things, Ginny. Trouble being just one of them. Your brother fought hard."

"The hardest. I just miss him. It's really hard on the family."

"I can't imagine. Anyway, I'll post lists outside the Great Hall tonight before dinner. Sign yourself up. Tell people about them."

"I will, sir. Thanks."

* * *

When Oliver collected the lists that night, he was amazed. He'd gotten a huge response from the students - almost half of Hogwarts was entering the competition. There was a smattering of first through fourth years, a swell of fifth and sixth years, and yet only a number of seventh years had actually writtent their names down. He tucked the list into his pockets and raced up to his office. He'd planned the first training for the next day, a Saturday for first years, and he had a lot of work to get done.

Midway through planning the fifth year lessons, there was a knock at the door. Checking the time, he saw that it was nearly eleven. Curious, he called to the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Professor. Luna."

"Lovegood, out of bed again... what am I going to do with you?"

He crossed the room and opened the door, nodding her into his office.

"I just came to talk about the competition. I'm a little nervous, see, in front of other students... they sometimes make fun of me and hide my things."

"Have you brought this up to McGonagall?"

"No. I don't think they're doing it to be mean - they just know I might get a rise out of it. But none of them have seen me duel, really. Besides Ginny. And I was thinking of entering."

Oliver lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he was struck still. He'd never really noticed before, how she had these really big eyes... to be honest, they were almost _too_ big, but they seemed to draw him in further.

"Well... yes. Did you, um, write your name on the list?"

"No. I thought they might make fun of me if they saw me on there..."

"Why would that be?"

"No other seventh year Ravenclaws are competing. I'd be the only one."

This struck him as odd - no, there was not a great number of seventh years to begin with, but he at least expected a few from each house.

"That's odd. Well, if you'd still like to train, I suppose I can still give you lessons... I'll tell you what, since it's just you, we can work on whatever _you_ need the most help on."

"You're very considerate, Professor. I quite like you."

The comment struck him as odd, but what about the girl didn't?

"Well... thank you, Lovegood. I'll write you a note, but you'd better get back to your dormitories... how about you meet me here tomorrow, after lunch? I've got a half hour or so before I have my first go with the last set of first years..."

"That's excellent."

He penned a note and sent her on her way. Why had she come to see him, then? Why not just show up at the time he'd set for seventh year Ravenclaws? They couldn't be that bad to her, could they? But even she said, she didn't really mind it, it wasn't mean... the girl perplexed him. He magicked out the lights and turned in. It had been an exciting day.

* * *

And the next day was even more full of excitement - though not particularly great. A number of first years had apparently read up on hexes far beyond themselves, and at least a third of them ended up going to the hospital wing for various reasons - one or two of which were unconsciousness. When lunch finally came and went, Oliver had almost forgotten he'd agreed to meet Luna in his office. Racing upstairs, he found her already waiting, sitting against the wall outside his door and shooting bubbles at the opposite wall. She never ceased to confuse and amaze him.

"Professor. There you are. I was wondering, do you think you could teach me how to properly stun someone? I've seen it done really well, and..."

"Luna, slow down. Yes, I can. In fact, let's set up our first training... I'm doing seventh years on Wednesdays, in their free periods and after lunch. I can fit you in after dinner."

"That would be lovely. I never have much work that day anyway."

"Alright then, that's settled... Luna, I have to ask you a question. How experienced are you at disarming someone?"

"I'm alright."

"I see... I have this theory, that disarming someone in a duel is the most effective move, though not nearly the most powerful..."

"Because you don't have to hex someone to leave them unable to attack?"

"Precisely. You're quite smart, you know."

"It's a Ravenclaw thing. But go on?"

"Yes. Luna, we're going to work on a few different ways of disarming your opponent... but you're not going to use these techniques until you've gotten farther into the competition, understand?"

She nodded. He grinned. He'd come up with a brilliant idea, to make this quirky outcast finally outshine everyone around her... she was going to be his project. He was going to train her to the best of his abilities. Maybe then, people would stop stealing her shoes. It was possible.

* * *

**AN: Wee. Came up with the duel competition idea because I wanted that kind of element in there, without it being Tri-Wizard Tournament status or anything. Opens up the possibilities for a lot of getting to know each other... : 3 Keep reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hello again! If you don't keep up with my other fics, I'm pleased to announce that I'm making my full-fledged return to FFnet! The move was difficult, and I still don't have a computer at home, but I'm visiting family often and borrowing theirs. You may also notice that I changed the rating from T to M - that's just to be safe. I happen to love including a little lemon in my stories, even if it's not intense, and any real mention of things deserves an M anyway. Alright - I know it's been a while since I've updated here. I won't keep you long. Enjoy!**

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Oliver couldn't think. He couldn't focus on anything else. Why in the name of Merlin was it nearly impossible to teach anything to a first year? By the end of first year classes each day, he was absolutely exhausted. They didn't catch on to anything - disarming, dueling, even wand movement. It was nearly a month into first term, and only a smattering of students had managed to not injure themselves doing the most basic defensive spells. It was a nightmare. McGonagall had grown concerned, assuming he'd been challenging them too much.

"Wood. Madame Pomfrey has brought it to my attention that a number of first year students are coming to her from your classes each day. How on earth are you managing to cause this much trouble with eleven-year-olds?"

He laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh, but a tense one. She could sense this. "Minerva, I apologize. I just... none of them seem to be catching on to anything. Most of them haven't done a single spell in my class so far. And if they have, well, like Poppy says..."

"I see. Well Wood, keep a closer eye on them, and remember not to push too hard. These children haven't done any real magic before, they're still getting used to their wands. On the matter of the upper grades, however, I must commend you. I've never seen students that are so enthralled with a subject!"

"I think it's the duel competition. Especially the fifth and sixth years - all they want to do is practice newer and newer spells - I'm running out of legal things to teach them!"

Her eyes narrowed. "And I'll assume by your character that your lessons will remain legal, or so help me Oliver I will send you packing right back to PU and your manager."

"Legal. Got it." He saluted her, mockingly, and he could almost swear he'd seen her smirk before she walked away. He'd always held a soft spot for the old bat - at least she had a sense of humor.

* * *

Dueling practices were another thing entirely - his only functioning first years were growing in talent daily, his second and third years catching up to his own skill, and everything above that surpassing his highest expectations. He'd had to move practices to the Quidditch pitch by the first or second meeting for most groups - classes were expanding as word got around about how much they were learning. Oliver had a small feeling that it might have something to do with the war of the previous year - being prepared for real-world dueling was definitely an added bonus.

This was not to say, however, that every student involved was becoming a dueling master - in just the last few days of meetings he'd had a burned off eyebrow, a girl who couldn't get her wand to stop spewing streamers, and even two severed fingers - off different people. It had been, sadly, _better_ than he was expecting - no one had been injured beyond repair, and for that he was thankful.

Of all his lessons however, he was finding that one student had the most trouble with the simplest things. Though Luna Lovegood had battled Death Eaters, driven off Dementors, and fought in some of the biggest battles recent history had known, she was admittedly crap at easy spells.

"Professor, I just don't feel like I'm getting the hang of this."

"Luna... you stunned Alecto Carrow. You fought off Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. And you can't disarm me?"

"I just think that maybe I can't concentrate well enough."

"And how could you do it all those other times?"

She fell back into a couch, rubbing her temples. Her brilliant blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and she closed her eyes.

"Well, Professor... it was like... when I was there, I was in the moment. I was fighting, and I could feel the rush in every inch of my body. It was... exhilarating. And here, in your classroom, on a school night... it's not that atmosphere. Do you know what I'm saying? It's like what would happen if you tried playing a great Quidditch match and there was no crowd to cheer you on, no benefit of stopping a Quaffle from going in. I think it's like that."

He paused for a moment - he knew exactly what she meant, and it was for that precise reason that he found himself at Hogwarts.

"Yeah. I think I get what you're saying - actually, I'm entirely certain I know _exactly_ what you're talking about. That's why I'm here, actually..."

"And what's that supposed to mean, Professor?"

"I felt like that this past season. Playing for Puddlemere was more than my dream when I was your age, it felt like my destiny - playing huge matches against foreign and domestic teams, traveling, the fame, it all came second to the thrill of the game. But after a few years... it felt like it wasn't even worth playing. I never went out with my teammates after matches, even as captain I only put into the team the absolute minimum to ensure we were winning. I was miserable."

She nodded, opening her eyes now to watch him while he continued. For some reason, he felt everything come out of him then - every moment of dragging himself through the season, to his return to Hogwarts. He realized, quickly after finishing, that he'd probably gotten a little too deep into the conversation - here he was, spilling his guts to his _student._ But when Luna looked at him - _really _looked at him, like she was looking into the very fiber of his being - it didn't seem to matter the relation. She genuinely cared about what he was saying, and how he felt about Quidditch and Hogwarts and everything, and that was all that mattered to him then.

"Anyway, that's why I came back to Hogwarts. For one, I needed an escape for a season... starting training a month after the last one ended would have been terrible. And for another... I was kind of hoping that returning here might help me get that spark back with the game. You know - the thrill of the fight. That kind of thing."

She stopped looking at him for only a moment, seeming to consider something.

"Well, Professor... I don't know if you'll approve of _my _teaching techniques, but maybe I could help you with that, in return for you helping me with my dueling."

"Lovegood, I'm helping everyone with dueling. I'm the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Well of course, but you're really helping me individually - the plan to win, and keeping me focused... just give it a shot, maybe?"

He, now, was the one to stop and consider. Lessons with Luna had been less than successful - her trying to find some way to get him back into Quidditch was bound to be bloody disastrous. But when he looked back at her, a slight smile on her pale face, he found himself, for some reason, unable to reject.

"Why not. I'll give it a go. Next week after our lesson - only if you promise to stop sneaking around the grounds after curfew."

"It's a deal. Until then, Professor, it's getting late now. I have just one question left until the next question I'll eventually ask. Do you remember the rather large lion hat?"

He did. He didn't want to hear what in Merlin's name he was going to have to do with it next week.

* * *

Luna retired to her dormitory rather late that night - despite her promise to Professor Wood that she wouldn't be out past curfew again. She'd spent a deal of time wandering around the Quidditch pitch, a usual haunt for her at night, but for different reasons.

Oliver Wood was putting much more into her training than he was with others - and she wasn't doing nearly well enough for it to even be justified. She hadn't even made any connection between his playing for Puddlemere, leaving, and his subsequent return to Hogwarts. But since he'd explained, she couldn't help but devise some sort of plan - it was her own special way of saying thank you. Well, part of it, anyway.

When she finally opened the door to her dormitory, she collapsed into bed. But it was not until much later, after writing for nearly an hour by light of lumos, that she finally let herself rest.

* * *

When Oliver woke, he rushed from bed. After confessing all to Luna the night before, he felt that his need to return to Quidditch was renewed. He was surprised, however, to find a small parcel just outside of his office door, obviously placed there by someone in the early hours of morning. Untying the bit of shimmering string, he rolled out the wrappings to find a small, gleaming trophy. On closer inspection, he saw that it was an exact miniature replica of the trophy he'd held up when he won the House Cup his seventh year. He smiled - he still considered that one of the proudest moments of his life, rivaling even winning the World Cup. He tucked it into his pocket and continued down to breakfast. He had a feeling he knew who had left the gift.

His heart raced every time he pulled it out to look - between classes, at night before bed, between extra lessons... and every time he saw it, every time he smiled, he saw those impossibly large blue eyes and that long hair... he was smitten. He definitely had a new favorite student.

* * *

**AN: Whew! Okay. That didn't take terribly long, and I'm reallllly glad I updated here, I needed to really get this going! Please review, it'll be nice to hear from everyone! Cheers!**


	6. Chapter 6

He was wearing the hat, and he was not very happy about it. Luna had gone from, in his opinion, an intriguing, promising student to an absolute mad hatter, and he wasn't sure what to do. She'd shown up at his office for an early lesson just before lunch and rushed them out, lion hat in hand. And now, it was on his head, roaring and swiveling around and supposedly cheering him on.

Luna, meanwhile, was sitting in the stands a few rows back, charming Quaffles to fly at him from every direction and, to his surprise, heckling him.

"Come on Wood, you're going to miss an easy shot like that? Rubbish!" She sent another flying straight at him.

"Luna, this is mad. I've only been at this for five minutes and I'm really, really confused."

She laughed, and he flew over beside her to land on the bench.

"Are you mad?"

"They do call me Loony Lovegood, I'd like to think it has some sort of reason. Now you have yours. Oliver the point is not to get confused."

"Well yes, but..."

"No! No but. Think of yourself up there. I'll put the hat somewhere else if you'd like. But remember. You're a Gryffindor. A proud lion, defending those three hoops from a few silly little balls. That's all."

He shrugged. She laughed. "You just have to get the spirit back. I'm heckling you. You've been blocking for rubbish. Try harder. Prove me wrong."

She smiled, and it made Oliver slightly uncomfortable, though he couldn't for the life of him think why. He mounted his broom, pushing off again, and she levitated the lion hat to another Gryffindor section of the stands, letting it call out to him from a short distance away.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, Luna."

With a flick of her wand, six Quaffles flew into the air to different angles and positions.

"Now, I'll just send one your way. Don't block it."

"What? Isn't the point of this to make me feel good about this?"

"Yes. So first, you're going to feel bad. Then better. Then great. Miss this one. Let it fly right by you."

She sent one soaring, and it took everything in him not to lunge for it, swinging off a broom to protect the goals.

"That's it. And how did that feel?"

"Terrible! I wanted to stop it, but I couldn't."

"This next one, stay where you are but try and lean to stop it."

Oliver obeyed, and the ball was just out of reach. Luna cheered.

"Yes! These next ones, do whatever it takes to save those goals."

The lion hat gave a loud roar, and Oliver smiled slightly. This was definitely an unusual teaching method.

She threw one, two, three, and the fourth flying at him from every odd angle. He caught and blocked them all with great precision, and while before he was upset, now he had a slight smile on his face.

"I think I get it. I'm supposed to be happy about blocking goals. I used to feel that way. Now it's turned into a chore."

"And that's what we're here to solve." She gathered her things, magicked over her hat, and got down from the stands. "It's nearly time for lunch. We should probably get back inside."

"Yeah, I'm starving." He jogged in to change out of his Quidditch robes, which Luna had stubbornly insisted that he wear. He was actually glad about that - he enjoying wearing his old Gryffindor get up again. He went back outside to find her, but found that she'd already left. She was, indeed, a little Loony. But it wasn't necessarily in a bad way. He found it funny.

When he'd found himself in the Great Hall for lunch, he spotted her shock of hair immediately, and she noticed him as well - she waved across the room. Oliver noticed, however, that she was sitting by herself. None of the other Ravenclaw students sat with her, and there wasn't room at the Gryffindor table for her to join Ginny. He immediately realized that this depressed him immensely, that Luna was sitting by herself. It wasn't as if he was required to sit at the staff table, and perhaps this would help with her whole Quidditch thing...

He took the seat next to her, startling her nearly to death. "Hi, Luna."

She finished chewing, giving him an odd look. "It is traditional that the staff sit at the high table, not among the students."

"Well, there isn't a terrible amount of tradition at the mo' anyway. You just yelled at me with a lion hat, Hogwarts is encouraging students to hex each other, McGonagall told me to do lessons on broomsticks the other day... it's definitely a little different."

"You can't even imagine how it was last year. It was a nightmare. I had more fun in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor than at Hogwarts."

He hadn't known about that, but felt that this wasn't the time to mention it. He began loading his plate.

"Well Lovegood, traditions are being broken. Today was fun, by the way, I'm glad you talked me into it."

"You're welcome. I thought it might help."

The lull in the conversation was obvious, but not uncomfortable. They ate in silence, quite a few pairs of eyes watching them as they did.

* * *

The next few days went as the ones previous did - Oliver's students were excited about the dueling competition more than anything, and he was just attempting to get through teaching them anything at all without injuring themselves or anyone else. After his lessons for the day and his training sessions, Oliver was nearly beat. He only had one lesson left, and that was Luna's. On the way back to his office, however, he was halted by McGonagall, a slight frown on her face.

"I wasn't even terribly serious about the competition! I just mentioned that it could be fun. The students spread it like wildfire, I've no idea what to do or how to plan this at all!" She spotted Oliver laughing slightly. "And what, Wood, is so funny?"

"They've been training for weeks. If you don't want to plan it, I will. It can't be too difficult, right?"

The look she gave him was enough to make him cringe. "Oh, Wood. How I admire your naive ways. If you feel you could plan it, please do. I'm bloody tired of students coming to my office to ask things about it, or getting in fights because of it."

"Excellent. I've been training with them, rotating, once a week. What's the date?

"November twelfth."

"We'll do it December first then. A little early, but I don't want them all practicing too much... if they're actually good at dueling we might run into a problem."

McGonagall put her hand to her face and shook her head. "I'll notify Poppy immediately. Good luck, Oliver. Good to see you taking initiative with your students."

When he finally returned to his office, he found Luna waiting outside, playing with floating charmed flowers. "Professor. Hello."

"Luna. Let's get inside. There's been a slight change of plan with the duels."

"How so?"

Once they were comfortable seated, he explained how he'd be running it, that there would be many rules, and that it was in just two weeks. Luna looked nervous.

"Do you think I'll be ready in two weeks?"

"It's defintely possible. We'll just have to train twice a week instead, and put off my Quidditch training..."

"I wish we didn't have to, that was fun."

"But it's probably right. We're going to win this thing."

She smiled, pulling her wand from her robes. "Are you ready, then? I just need to practice a few basic jinxes and things, and then we can really perfect disarming and stunning..."

When Luna left his office that night, Oliver was confident. She'd made significant progress in the last few days, and he was nearly sure that she'd excel in the competition. _Nearly _so.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Okay, I'm back, yadda yadda here you go. Enjoy! **

Oliver woke the next morning with a faint picture left from his dreams. The only image he could conjure was one of her smile - bright, untamed, and enough to make him go weak at the knees. He had always been a sucker for smiles, and the one that he'd been seeing over the previous weeks was enough to win him over for good. It was with a start that he shook his head and sat himself in bed, legs crossed in front of him. Luna was his _student_, she was barely of age. They'd been meeting every night for the past near week since Wood had taken over leadership of the Dueling Competition. Luna was improving more and more every night, and subsequently charming him half to death, no magic pun intended. She was witty, and odd, and absolutely the most peculiar person he'd ever been in such close contact with. And yet, he couldn't get enough of her personality, her jokes, and that smile...

With another shake of the head, Oliver stood to ready himself for the day. It was a Sunday, and he was grateful for it. He had only two training lessons today, as the Hufflepuffs had postponed theirs to study or whatever, and then the session with Luna. He both looked forward to this and dreaded it. She was getting nearly perfect at everything he'd taught her so far, and since she'd gotten quite good at stunning and disarming, they had moved onto more difficult spells that she could use in the beginning of the competition, to ensure that she'd make it to the finals. He was teaching her a new spell tonight. And he was quite sure she'd be teaching him something new, as well. What it might be, he had no idea...

* * *

The Gryffindors were asking about Slytherin progress, and vice versa. As very little Hufflepuffs had entered, and not many people knew about Luna - the sole 7th year Ravenclaw participating - the two groups seemed to think, as usual, that they were each other's biggest enemy.

"What about Ginny Weasley? I heard she knows more spells than the rest of us because of the war and things. That can't be fair!"

"Ginny Weasley knows more spells because she pays attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not because of anything else. I've been trying to keep you all up to speed, but if a certain house doesn't try as hard..."

"We'll try even harder!"

Oliver shook his head and continued with the lesson. The Gryffindors were just as bad, or worse.

"We Gryffindors have a habit of winning. We've been on a slight winning streak for the last few years. Since Harry came in, at least. The Slytherins think they're better. Are they better?"

"No one house is better than the other right now. There are a few students that stand out, one in particular..."

"Is it someone from Slytherin? Or one of us?"

"Neither."

The collective gasp that came from the eight Gryffindors around him was enough to make him laugh.

"Hufflepuff then?"

"Nope."

"But professor, I thought Ravenclaw didn't have any participants?"

"That person started training a little late, and wants to keep it secret. Quite promising..."

"That's rubbish! Who is it?"

"If they wish to remain secret, they will." The students groaned, and Oliver continued the training session. To tell the truth, Luna was his most promising student. It was only possible that it was, perhaps, because of their one-on-one meetings. Maybe.

* * *

He paced. He jumped up and down. He levitated a piece of rock around the room, and smashed it against the wall. Luna was only five minutes late, and yet every second had seemed like an eternity. It was during his speech about her this afternoon that he realized something terrible and yet amazing. He was absolutely smitten with Luna Lovegood. Damn the fact that she was his student, damn the fact that he was supposed to be here to relax, and to get back into Quidditch. She'd been helping him with that, of course. And really, she was of age, and he was only four years her senior...

The knock on the door sent him at least a foot into the air. He knew who it was - nobody else would knock on his door five minutes past six. Nobody else knocked as lightly, but loudly as she did. He was pathetic. He was absolutely smitten.

There she was, in jeans and a sweater with a coat and Ravenclaw scarf over it all, smiling huge. Her usual mane of curly hair was falling over her shoulders and reflecting every bit of light in the room, including that of the setting sun coming through the window.

"Professor."

"You can call me Oliver. Please do." _The sound of you calling me professor makes my head spin all over again._

"Alright, Oliver. I'm thinking before our lesson, we could take a little walk. I sometimes get tired after the first hour anyway, and it's really beautiful outside, it's snowing but the sun is coming down and it's like magic."

Her comparison of nature to magic set him off again. He grinned. "Let me grab my coat."

They stepped downstairs and out the front door quickly, but not before a sly Headmistress McGonagall caught sight of them laughing together. In all reality, she should have a talk with Oliver and discourage the relationship completely, but he needed to be happy, she'd lost so much the year previous, and honestly, she'd never seen a couple that made her smile as much. She'd just have a little mention of it ready the next time she ran into him...

* * *

It was really beautiful, Luna had been right. The setting sun cast a brilliant orange glow over the castle and grounds, sending light shooting through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, reflecting off the snow that covered the ground. Even the Whomping Willow looked worthy of a photograph. Luna led him on her favorite route around the grounds, past parts of the castle still being repaired, telling stories of the battle and the excitement. Luna could put a positive spin on anything - she often referred to the final battle as the day they won, or the day they finally got rid of Voldemort, as if he was an annoying bug infestation. When they finally stopped to rest by a rather large tree beside the lake, Luna laid fully back into the snow and closed her eyes, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

It was moves like this that threw Oliver off the most. She was so innocent at times, so childlike. She managed to still keep a good outlook on everything, despite having seen friends and family die the previous year. She fought on, she stayed strong. She was brilliant. Speaking of...

"Luna. I just have to ask... what happened to your parents?"

Her tongue slipped back in, but her smile grew. "My mother died when I was very young, tragic accident. And my father was an amazing man. I admit, he had skewed intentions toward the end - he only wanted to protect me, after all. Harry had come to see him, to ask about something... I haven't heard the full story, but he called people to capture Harry, but they escaped. My father was arrested, taken to Azkaban. When the war was over, he was so empty... they released him and he came home, but didn't speak a word until a month later, when he died."

"What did he say?"

She sat up now, and her smile turned bittersweet. "He told me everything was left to me, and that he loved me. He told me I'd been his light and sunshine since my mother died, and that I looked just like her. He smiled as he died. That was the eeriest part, I think."

"Eerie, yeah. I would definitely say that. At least he got to, you know, say goodbye."

"That's what I like to remember. Of course I wish he was still around today, but if he were, he'd be very lonely with me gone, he doesn't like running the Quibbler alone."

"And what's going to happen to the Quibbler, then?"

Luna cocked her head to the side. "I've thought a bit about it. I could sell it - there are plenty of readers that would pay decent money for the rights to it, and for the press. But that doesn't seem right to me. I think I might keep it, and run it myself. Maybe hire another writer or something. If it turns into something better... it could pay for itself. And then I could afford to fix up the house, and for everything else. I think though that sometimes, my father had a strange idea of what to write about. Of course we believed in these things, despite everyone else, but that's exactly the thing - not many others did. I've thought about writing for the Prophet, but I wouldn't enjoy being on the same staff as Rita Skeeter, not after what she wrote about Dumbledore."

"Either one sounds good." Oliver scooted over to face Luna, both of them with their legs crossed in front of them. They were knees to knees, and closer then, he thought, than they'd ever been. "Luna, what have you ever thought of doing if you sell the Quibbler?"

She smiled then, and closed her eyes. Her lashes were so long they brushed her cheeks, he'd never seen anything so beautiful. He blinked to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"I'd probably come back to Hogwarts, if I could. I'd talk to McGonagall... maybe teach Herbology, when whoever is teaching it next retires, or maybe Divination. I was always good at Divination. Hogwarts though, is my other home. I'm here most of the year. I met my friends here. I met you here. The stone walls. These sunsets. It's a good place."

He felt his face flush when she mentioned meeting him there as one of her favorite things about Hogwarts. He was beginning to think that this year at Hogwarts was better than any he'd had as a student, maybe save for the year he won the Quidditch Cup, only because this year he'd met her. She was leaning back on her bands, but leaned forward suddenly to rest on her elbows on her knees.

"And what do you plan on doing, Oliver? You can't chase Quidditch around forever. Pun intended."

He grinned. "I'm not entirely sure. I spent four years playing for PU. I'm team captain, or I was before I took this year off. I still don't feel the same pull for Quidditch, as I used to. I want to feel it, but I can't imagine stopping Quaffles for the rest of my years. I'd retire from the league around 30 anyway, most men do, and then what? I'd probably still come back to Hogwarts. I can't see myself working for the ministry, or doing law, or medicine, or anything like that. This school and the sport are the only things I've ever loved."

"That's a terribly sad thing. But I can see what you mean. Do you mean to say, then, that if you don't go back to Quidditch, you'll stay at Hogwarts?"

"I would. Hogwarts is where it all started. And maybe it'll continue here, as well." Luna did not reply, and Oliver didn't know whether or not it was because she had nothing to say or because she enjoyed the silence after powerful statements. All he knew was that as the next few minutes crept on, Luna stopped leaning on her elbows, and his own hands on his knees crept closer and closer towards hers. As their fingertips touched and played with each others, Oliver had the strangest feeling that perhaps, he wasn't the only one of them with crazy, unexplainable feelings.


End file.
